


Melt

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is Inhuman, M/M, No Tentacles, he has something else hiding beneath his skin, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As if to punctuate your point, you lean in and press a kiss against the swath of revealed skin along the man's front. It feels wonderful against your lips, like the cool side of some ethereal pillow. When you pull back, you can see that the dark sky of that patch is now alight with tiny twinkling lights, brimming through the black and blue like tiny stars. And when you look up, you can see those same lights beginning to bore holes in Cecil's cheeks."</p>
<p>Cecil has a secret about his body that he's hesitant to reveal. Just a little drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melt

**Author's Note:**

> Just something small I wrote on my tumblr while I try to think of some longer ideas for Cecilos fanfic. c:

"I don't know," Cecil murmurs, nervously working at the skin of his forearms as if it were a towel that he could somehow wring the anxious energy from. You put a slow hand on top of his, halting the knuckles in their ceaseless vise. 

"I understand if you don't want to." You don't understand, really. You don't quite understand why your boyfriend would be nervous to take off his shirt, to show his body to you. But a lot can hide under one layer of clothing. A whole life can be hidden on a torso or a belly or a back that's never bared to the world. So you _try_ to understand, and be patient. 

Cecil wrestles with his lower lip, eyebrows drawn down in thought. After a moment, he shakes his head, but you're still not sure what his answer is, so you wait.

"No. No, I'm okay. Just. One moment." 

He takes a deep, breath. You take one with him, long and patient. 

"Okay. Here goes."

He takes off his shirt quickly, casting it off to the side. 

At first, you don't see what's wrong. Cecil's body is fairly unremarkable. No scarring, no extra appendages, no tattoos, no nothing. It's light brown and freckled darker in some areas, and his ribs show in twos underneath each breast. You're confused, so you look up at him, searching his face for a clue as to what exactly you should be finding so shocking. 

"What's wrong? I don't…should I be seeing something?"

"No, um. One second."

Cecil shakily reaches out, lifting your and placing it onto his chest. You lower your eyes from the man's face and instead look at his hand, waiting for something to happen.

Then, he starts to move your hand downwards, and you mouth a silent _oh_.

Because as he drags your hand down, you leave a distinct trail of a darker, less natural color (a brackish purple-blue) leaking down from where your hand had been on the man's sternum to where it is now, perched on his solar plexus. The skin--the _outer_ skin, you suppose--is peeling and flaking off along with the path of your hand, sloughing off to the side as if it were made of melting putty. 

Your mouth opens slightly, but all you can manage is a dry swallow as you watch with awe and perhaps a little bit of fear. But not fear at the fact that beneath Cecil's skin lay not fat, or muscle, or bone, but instead a layer of mottled color that perhaps best resembles a stormy night sky. 

"Does this hurt you?" You mumble, rubbing your thumb into a patch of warm skin. It comes away against your finger, revealing yet another swathe of dark color underneath. After looking up and receiving a nervous, but approving glance in return, you settle your other hand on the man's left side, gently rubbing until most of the skin there has sloughed off. 

Cecil shakes his head, allowing both hands to explore his body with earnest. 

"No. It doesn't hurt me. I just."

He laughs nervously, and runs a hand through his hair, unintentionally wiping a swipe of skin off near his temple. 

"It's kind of strange. You're taking it pretty well, aren't you?"

"I'm not really a stranger to…strange anymore. Anyway, uh. This is just…cool." You finish rather lamely, focusing primarily on divesting the man of as much skin as possible. As bizarre and potentially gruesome that would sound to anyone else not in precisely the same situation you are currently relishing. 

As if to punctuate your point, you lean in and press a kiss against the swath of revealed skin along the man's front. It feels wonderful against your lips, like the cool side of some ethereal pillow. When you pull back, you can see that the dark sky of that patch is now alight with tiny twinkling lights, brimming through the black and blue like tiny stars. And when you look up, you can see those same lights beginning to bore holes in Cecil's cheeks. 

 

\-----

 

You wake up the next morning, sweat long cooled from your body, blinking against the mellow light filtering in through the window. You wet your lips and look over to the other side of the bed. Cecil is curled up on his side, both hands pillow up next to his head. You think you can just see the imperceptible way that his breath moves against the skin. You take a moment to examine every last detail of the face and body of the man cushioned next to you. The freckles on the remaining skin of Cecil's face and shoulders and chest are different; they grow in little clusters, surrounding darkened nuclei of melanin. 

You notice belatedly, still dazed by sleep and the brightness of the sunlight, that the messy paths of your hands still run over his body like watercolors, splattered against what little remains of Cecil's "skin." However, instead of an inky-blue, the revealed areas now rise in colors of pink and pale peach, mirroring the sky cresting over the morning outside. 

You keep watching as the bared patches under Cecil's skin, marked in stripes and handprints, slowly bleeds into a pale, robin's egg. Occasionally, it swirls with yellow clouds, sometimes forming conical formations tinged with the shimmering light of the desert sun. 

After a long while, Cecil stirs, his eyelids twitching before they finally open. He yawns and rubs at his face, unintentionally scrubbing away the last bit of skin clinging to his cheek and leaving him flushed and baby blue. 

"Carlos?" He mumbles, sitting up on one elbow, "What is it? Is there something wrong with my face?"

Cecil does have a smattering of black birds taking flight against his temple but that's hardly something _wrong._

You  reach your hand up and cover the side of Cecil's neck, softly bringing him close and closing the gap between your faces. 

"No," you laugh, pressing your forehead against the other man's, "No. I just think I love waking up to you."


End file.
